Chaos at Hogwarts
by ChaosLightning13
Summary: In Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts, the Triwizard Tournament is hosted at the school. This momentous event affects the lives of everyone at the school. But life also goes on as normal, especially for four notsonormal first year students.
1. Prisoner of Azkaban

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I am not Rowling, I live in America, not England.

What would happen if someone knew that Sirius Black was innocent?

            Certainly they would try to tell the authorities—or would they? Find out what happens when four extremely bright first-years discover the truth about Sirius Black.

Here it is: the beginning of the revised version of Chaos at Hogwarts.

            It all began when I was ten years old. Oh, some strange things happened before then, and perhaps you could say it began before I was born, when Voldemort began to take over—or even before that, a thousand years ago—but I'm getting ahead of myself. Way ahead. That's for the next story; if I were to include it in this one, it would be far too long.

            I have a secret now, and I will tell it eventually, but I didn't have a secret then. Not any big secret, at least. But when I was ten, I discovered something, something important, something I should have told to everyone I could—but I didn't, since I knew they wouldn't believe me.

            That day dawned with a gray overcast, a depressing sort of day, without the happiness of the sun, nor the excitement of thunder and rain. Just gray, colorless, depressing. "Mom," I said after I ate breakfast, which was a bowl of Cornflakes, "can I go over to Zach's house today?" Zachary Taylor was my best friend and next-door neighbor. Like myself, he was the child of a witch and a wizard, but unlike me, he was a pureblood. Neither of us cared about that, however. Zach's parents were what some would call "blood traitors," purebloods who went against their family's wishes and were disowned. Well, his parents hadn't been disowned, but some time ago his ancestors had, and his entire family was a bunch of blood traitors, just like the Weasleys.

            Mom was reading the paper, but she looked up when I spoke. "Be careful, dear. There's been a breakout from Azkaban."

            "_What?!_" I demanded. "But that's impossible!"

            Mom shook her head. "We don't know how he did it, but Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban. It is suspected that he used Dark magic."

            Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban? No way! He was a top-security prisoner. No, it couldn't be. But Mom wouldn't joke about something this serious. "Aren't the prisoners supposed to go insane?" I asked.

            "They usually do, but Fudge visited Azkaban shortly before Black got out. He says that Black seemed perfectly sane, even asked for the newspaper, said he missed doing the crossword." Mom knew a lot of classified information, because she worked for the Ministry.

            "I'll be careful," I promised, grabbing last week's newspaper on my way out so Zach and I could work on the crossword. We liked solving puzzles together.

            At that point I should have begun suspecting that something was going on, but I suppose that by then I had stopped noticing coincidences. My life is full of coincidences, strange things that always turn out for the best. I have this nagging suspicion that it has to do with the fact that I was born on Friday the 13th.

            I just walked over to Zach's house and knocked on the door. We'd wander over to each other's houses whenever we felt like it, so there was no reason to call each other beforehand—and Zach, being a pureblood, didn't even have a telephone. Then there was the fact that I hated talking on the telephone. So we would just show up unannounced, and we'd be announced to the other by their parents.

            When I was let inside, Zach asked, "So, did you hear about Black escaping from Azkaban?"

            "Yeah," I said, "Mom told me to take care. Any idea why got out?"

            "Well," Zach said slowly, "Father tells me that for a few days before he left, he was whispering, 'He's at Hogwarts... he's at Hogwarts....' What do you think?"

            "Sounds like he's after Potter," I concluded. Black was a Death Eater, and a mass murderer. He'd killed thirteen people with one curse. Some said that he thought he'd be second-in-command when Voldemort took over. They didn't use those exact words, of course. People were still too afraid to say the name Voldemort. Foolishness. "But it doesn't make sense. How did he suddenly find out that Potter was going to Hogwarts? Surely he should have known two years ago, if he found out so suddenly."

            "You're right," Zach agreed. "It doesn't make sense." He shrugged. "Well, I don't suppose a couple ten-year-olds like us are going to solve the mystery. Did you bring the paper? Great." He took it out of my hands and began to stare at the crossword. I was looking at the other side of the paper, reading it absently.

            _He's at Hogwarts...._

MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE

      Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office at the Ministry of Magic, has won the annual _Daily Prophet_ Grand Prize Galleon Draw.

      A delighted Mr. Weasley told the _Daily Prophet_, "We will be spending the gold on a summer holiday in Egypt, where our eldest son, Bill, works as a curse breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank.

      The Weasley family will be spending a month in Egypt, returning for the start of the new school year at Hogwarts—

            "_He's at Hogwarts...."_ I jerked upright. "Zach! Mom said that Black asked Fudge for the paper, saying he missed doing the crossword. Flip it over and read the article, then tell me what you think."

            He scanned the article quickly, then caught my eye. "He's at Hogwarts. But this is about the Weasleys; it has nothing to do with Potter."

            I took the newspaper from him and looked at the picture. Now, just so you know, I'm crazy. I'll leap to conclusions, then justify the conclusions using the flimsiest reasons. 

            I stared at the picture absently. All nine Weasleys were in it, waving cheerily, and the youngest boy even had his pet rat on his shoulder. The rat looked like Peter Pettigrew.

            Now you're thinking I'm crazy. Well, you can't say I didn't warn you. But let me explain. If Pettigrew had been an Animagus, he would probably have been able to turn into a rat that was a twin of the one in the picture. Or _was_ the one in the picture.

            "_He's at Hogwarts...._"

            "That's it!" I exclaimed.

            Zach looked at me a bit oddly. "What's it?"

            So I explained. "When Black cornered Pettigrew, and blew the street apart, Pettigrew turned into a rat and disappeared. Black knows that, and want to get back at Pettigrew. And if Black saw this article...." I trailed off.

            "Your theory has one tiny flaw," Zach pointed out. "Pettigrew was too stupid to become an Animagus."

            "Yeah," I agreed with a grimace. "And he's not listed as an Animagus, either. But he was friends with the two smartest boys at Hogwarts, who had no regard for rules: James Potter and Sirius Bla-a-ack...." Then it hit me. "Black must have been an Animagus, too. That's how he gave the dementors the slip."

            Zach just stared at me, dumbfounded. "Girl, you're mental."

            I rolled my eyes. "It took you this long to notice? Now, how many years has it been? But just think... it makes _sense_...."

            "Occam's Razor. Black lost track of what year it was and only just recently realized that Potter had started at Hogwarts."

            "Uh-huh," I countered. "Occam's Razor. Magic does not exist, and all witches and wizards are delusional."

            Zach laughed. "Okay, okay. Actually, the simplest explanation is that Black is innocent and Pettigrew was the supporter of the Dark Lord."

            Now it was _my _turn to call _him_ crazy.

            "No, no, you've got it all wrong. Crazy is a _good_ thing." He paused while I laughed. "But listen. Black just wasn't the type to go over to the Dark Side. Pettigrew was. Oh, and by the way, James Potter had another good friend, Remus Lupin. So Lupin would also have been an Animagus."

            Really?  Lupin was a werewolf, not an Animagus?  Well, we were close enough.

Okay, there's the new chapter 1. Hope you like it. It doesn't cover as much time as the original chapter 1, but I like this one better. Please review!


	2. Quidditch World Cup

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own it. At least not if you recognize it. I do own the whole idea of the Chaos Club, and Mera, Zach, Jim, and Rachel.

The next summer, I received my letter of invitation to Hogwarts. Zach and I had a small party, just because we felt like it. "Go Mera! We got in!" My name is Emerald, but my friends call me Mera. Not Em, not Emma—Mera. I know it's odd, but "odd" just about sums up my entire existence. Wait a minute. Now I've offended myself. No single word could sum up the "me" part of me. My last name is Jones, a rather common name, but I like it. It's mine. And I'll bet there's no other Mera Jones out there. There probably aren't too many Meras out there, if there are any at all besides me.

            Mom went to Diagon Alley to get my stuff, because I was going to the Quidditch World Cup. It was being hosted by Britain that year, and there was no way I was going to miss it. I'd begun flying when I was about four, on Dad's old Silver Arrow, which was really a nice broom, just not as fast as the newer ones. He'd taken quite good care of it.

            Zach's family and mine paid for our campsites together. Zach rolled his eyes when the Muggle commented on how odd the people were, how most everyone was having trouble with money. "No duh," he whispered to me. "This Muggle money makes no sense. Give me good old Galleons any day." I smiled a bit at that, since Muggle money was actually more logical than wizard money. What sort of a ratio is twenty-nine to one, or seventeen to one?

            There were people selling all sorts of cool things, like Omnioculars and miniature Krum action-figures. Zach and I each got a pair of Omnioculars, paying for them with our own spending money. We got something to eat, I don't remember exactly what, and went to find seats. Luckily, we were some of the first people there, so we got some of the best seats excepting the Top Box. A kid who looked to be about our age wandered over and sat next to us. He had flaming red hair and freckles, just like the Weasleys, so I figured he must be one of them, but wondered why he wasn't with his family. I also wondered why he hadn't been in the photograph.

            "Hi," he said. "My name's Jim Johnson. What's yours?" So he wasn't a Weasley. Maybe he was related to the Weasleys, for example his mother could have been a Weasley before she married.

            "I'm Mera Jones," I replied, trying to be polite. I'm not a very good conversationalist. I did note the similarity between our names.

            "And I'm Zach Taylor," said Zach.

            "Are you related to the Weasleys?" I asked Jim, for I was quite curious. I love any tidbit of information I can get, as long as it might possibly be useful in some way. Sometimes I'll even learn useless trivia just for the fun of it.

            "Yeah, I think they're my third-cousins or something," he said, and added, "on my mom's side. Are you related to Hestia Jones?"

            "Yes, actually, she's my mother," I replied, feeling special because the boy knew my mom's name. Crazy things make me feel special.

            "So how old are you?" Jim asked. "I'm eleven. I'll be starting my first year at Hogwarts."

            "Us too!" I exclaimed. Maybe I could make another friend before I went to Hogwarts. Maybe I could make a friend who would be in Ravenclaw, the House I wanted to be in. I wasn't too sure about Zach. He was certainly smart enough, but I had this nagging suspicion that he'd follow the example of his favorite uncle and would end up in Slytherin. Occasionally I would toy with the idea of being in Slytherin, because their color, green, was my favorite color. It was also the color of my birthstone, emerald, which happened to be the same as my name. "What House do you think you'll be in?"

            "I don't know," Jim replied. "Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, I suppose. Anything but Slytherin."

            Zach's expression turned a bit sour. "What's wrong with Slytherin? I'm sure there have to be some nice Slytherins. I mean, it has to be possible for a person to be ambitious and good-natured at the same time."

            Jim gave him the are-you-crazy? look, which Zach interpreted correctly. "Of course I'm crazy. You know, you're pretty observant. Most people take longer to notice."

            The seats around us were beginning to fill up, and the crowd buzzed with excitement. "Sorry," someone said when they bumped into me. "Excuse me," someone else said, and I squeezed back to give them room to get by me.

            When the Ireland players zoomed onto the field, we focused our Omnioculars on their _Firebolts_.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jim shudder.

            "What's wrong?" I asked.

"You know that Potter has a _Firebolt_?"

            "Er, yeah." What did that have to do with the price of rice in China?

            "Sirius Black sent it to him."

            "How did you reach _that_ conclusion?" Zach demanded, taking the words right out of my mouth.

            "I just, er, _know_ things," Jim replied.

            _Strange kid_, I thought. _Just _knows_ things. Is he psychic or something?_ I had often suspected that I myself was psychic, from my quick reactions. Sometimes I had these hunches that something was going to happen, and it did.

            "Join the Crazy Club," said Zach.

            "Go Chaos!" I shouted, for no particular reason.

            "The Chaos Club, then," Zach amended.

            "Aren't you two worried?  Black could have cursed that broomstick." Jim certainly seemed worried, but Zach and I, naively confident in our conclusion, were blithely unaware that we might be wrong.

            "But he wouldn't have.  Isn't that right, Mera?"

            "Of course," I replied. "Black's innocent. Pettigrew's the guilty one."

            "Crazy Club indeed," Jim muttered.

            "Chaos Club," I corrected.

            "Whatever."

            The end of the match came as a surprise. Although Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker, caught the Snitch, Ireland won, 170 to 160.

            After the match, I wandered into the nearby woods.  I was immediately lost among all the trees.  Deciding that I might get a better view from a higher vantage point, I levered myself up the side of one tree.

            I must have dozed off, since the next thing I knew, three teenagers were walking by the tree into a clearing nearby.  One of them was none other than Harry Potter himself. Intrigued, I leaned forward to get a closer look, and nearly fell out of the tree.

            Off to my right, a deep voice boomed, "MORSMORDRE!" I froze, clinging to the branch for dear life.

            _Death, er what's mordre?_ I thought as the Dark Mark shot into the sky.  _Death mark, maybe?  I'll have to check my Latin-English dictionary when I get home._

            That's me.  Somebody summons the Dark Mark, and my first response is to try to translate the spell he used. As I said, I'm crazy.

            Carefully, cautiously, I slipped down the trunk to the ground, and ran toward the edge of the trees, which I had seen from my vantage point. I ran blindly, dodging bushes and branches, but as quickly as I could, which was _very_ fast. I was terrified, and I ran like lightning. When I got out of the woods, Dad and Zach's family were waiting for me.

            "Oh, there you are!"  Dad scooped me up in a big hug.  "I was so worried…."

            "Zach," I hissed, "I have something to tell you."

Okay, I have revised this chapter. Yay.


	3. The Chaos Club

Disclaimer: Still don't own it. Getting tired of writing disclaimers. Wondering if I should buy the rights to the book from JKR so I won't have to write any more disclaimers.

The rest of the summer went by in a flash, and before I knew it, it was time to begin my first year at Hogwarts. Dad drove me to King's Cross station, where he showed me how to go through the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10. Platform 9 ¾ was jam-packed, and I had barely enough room to breathe, much less actually find my way to the train. Somehow I managed, and I searched around until I found a mostly empty compartment. Apparently Zach and Jim had not yet arrived, although it seemed the rest of the school had.

            The compartment had only one other occupant, a small, blonde girl who looked at me shyly. "Hi," I said as I came into the compartment. "Mind if I sit here?"

            "No, not at all," she replied, so I sat down next to her.

            "My name's Emerald Jones," I introduced myself, "but I prefer to be called Mera. What's your name?"

            "Rachel Smith," she said. "Both my parents are—what do you call them?—Muggles, and I'd never even heard of Hogwarts until I got my letter. Imagine, all the crazy stuff that happened around me wasn't a poltergeist after all."

            "What's it like to grow up with Muggles?" I asked. I'd always wanted to know. My adopted brother, Ryan, had never been able to give a satisfactory answer, because he'd been raised in an orphanage before my parents had adopted him.

            "I haven't known any other life, so I wouldn't know what to compare it with," Rachel answered.

            I was rather disappointed. "Oh. Okay."

            Having exhausted the possibilities for conversation, I got out my Spanish-English dictionary. I'd already looked through the Latin-English dictionary until it began to fall apart, without finding anything very similar, so I'd given up on that. But Spanish was a Romance language, so I figured that maybe it would have something. All spells came from Latin, of course, but my Latin-English dictionary couldn't have every single Latin word.

            Zach and Jim arrived presently, and introduced themselves to Rachel. Immersed in my search as I was, I almost failed to notice them, but I have a knack for being able to read and walk at the same time, without running into anything, so I have to be observant when I'm reading. "Hey Zach," I said. "Hey Jim." I didn't even look up from the dictionary.

            Then I found it.

**morde|dura**_f _bite. **~r **[2] _vt _bite; (_fig, quitar porciones a_) eat into; (_denisgrar_) gossip about. **• **_vi _bite

            "Finally!" I exclaimed.

            "What?" Rachel asked, trying to look over my shoulder.

            "It's been absolutely driving me up the wall!" I was still lost in my own little world, and didn't realize that this explanation didn't tell them anything.

            "What has?" Jim inquired.

            "_Morsmordre_." That wasn't much help, either, since none of them had ever heard the spell to conjure the Dark Mark.

            Rachel was confused, as well she should be.  "Huh?"

            "It's the spell to conjure the Dark Mark." I was still oblivious, and didn't realize that that explanation was sure to freak them out.

            "_What?!_" Rachel demanded.

            "Don't let anyone else know you know how to conjure the Dark Mark," Jim warned.  "Where'd you learn it, anyways?"

            "Out in the woods.  The person who conjured it was close by. And I don't really know how to conjure it; I'm sure there's more to it than just saying the spell," I assured them.

            Zach's response was, "So?" Naturally I'd already told him about being near where the Dark Mark was conjured, and he was eager to hear why the spell was driving me nuts—and how that was possible, for I was already insane.

            "Most spells come from Latin," I explained.  "_Mors_ means _death_, but I couldn't find _mordre_ in my Latin dictionary.  It was driving me crazy."

            "You're already crazy," Jim muttered.

            "So?" Zach repeated.  "Then what?"

            I continued, "I decided to look in my Spanish dictionary, since Spanish is a Romance language."

            Zach was getting impatient.  "And?"

            "It was in there.  Sort of.  _Morder_ was in there.  _Morder_ means _to bite_, or _to eat into_."

            Zach's eyes widened.  "Death Eater!"

            "My thought exactly," I said.

Please review! Tell me what you think. Are the kids still too smart?


	4. The Sorting

Disclaimer: Still own the kids, still own the idea for this story, still own Chaos (you'll find out about it in The Chaos Tunnel, and more in Queen of Chaos when I get around to typing it), still don't own Harry Potter. Any questions?

The train ground to a halt, and we stepped out into a storm. Students were hunching over and running as quickly as they could toward wherever they were going, and the four of us had begun to follow some older students when we heard a voice calling, "Firs' years! Firs' years this way!"

            We followed the voice until we were able to make out a huge figure standing by the lake. "That must be Hagrid, the gamekeeper," Zach shouted to us. He had to shout to be heard above the wind, rain, and thunder.

            We got into little boats that I was sure would tip over before we got across the lake. Zach and I shared a boat, and Jim and Rachel shared another. Soon I was drenched to the bone, and shivering. One boy fell in, on purpose it seemed to me, and something pushed him back into the boat. Hagrid gave him his cloak. I toyed with the idea of falling in, also. Even if I didn't get a cloak for my efforts, I might have been warmer just because I'd have been out of the wind.

            "Ever'body watch yer head!" Hagrid yelled, and Zach and I huddled down in the boat as far as we could as we passed into a dark tunnel. Then we were at the far shore, and we got out of the boats. Hagrid led us into the castle and left us.

            "Look!" I pointed. "Ghosts!" At that moment, several people screamed, and one girl actually fainted. One of the ghosts, wearing a bright orange vest, threw water-bombs at us. I managed to catch one and threw it back at him, and it splattered all over him. He seemed delighted, and threw all the rest of the water-bombs at me.

            A stern-looking witch with her graying hair pulled back in a severe bun appeared. "Peeves! Stop that!"

            "Peeves was just having a bit of fun," the poltergeist protested. "They were already wet."

            "I wonder how we're going to be Sorted," I whispered, suddenly frightened. I needn't have worried.

            The stern witch brought out a stool and placed atop it a very old, worn-out hat. Then, to everyone's surprise, a wide rip opened near the brim, and the hat burst into song.

                        _A thousand years or more ago,_

_                        When I was newly sewn,_

_                        There lived four wizards of renown,_

_                        Whose names are still well known:_

_                        Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,_

_                        Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,_

_                        Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,_

_                        Shrewd Slytherin, from fen._

_                        They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,_

_                        They hatched a daring plan_

_                        To educate young sorcerers—_

_                        Thus Hogwarts School began!_

_                        Now each of these four founders_

_                        Formed their own house, for each_

_                        Did value different virtues_

_                        In the ones they had to teach._

_                        By Gryffindor, the bravest were_

_                        Prized far beyond the rest;_

_                        For Ravenclaw, the cleverest_

_                        Would always be the best;_

_                        For Hufflepuff, hard workers were_

_                        Most worthy of admission;_

_                        And power-hungry Slytherin_

_                        Loved those of great ambition._

_                        While still alive, they did divide_

_                        Their favorites from the throng;_

_                        Yet how to choose the worthy ones_

_                        When they were dead and gone?_

_                        'Twas Gryffindor who found the way,_

_                        He whipped me off his head,_

_                        The founders put some brains in me,_

_                        So I could choose instead._

_                        Now slip me snug about your ears,_

_                        I've never yet been wrong;_

_                        I'll take a peek inside your mind,_

_                        And tell where you belong!_

            Yes, I memorized the whole thing.  More evidence of my specialness, I suppose. I love poetry, and the song was really interesting.

            "What's a Death Eater?" Rachel whispered. She must have been wondering since our conversation on the train, but hadn't worked up the nerve to ask until now. Or perhaps she had worked up the nerve on the boat trip across the lake, but hadn't gotten the chance to ask.

            "Dark Lord supporter," I whispered back, feeling relieved. All I had to do was put the hat on my head, and it would tell me which House I was in.

            "Call him Voldemort!" Jim hissed.

            "Why?" As I said before, I normally called him Voldemort, but when speaking to others I called him the Dark Lord, for some reason. Death Eaters called him that, as did prophets, but no one else did.

            "Just, I don't know.  Don't you think it would be hilarious to stand in the middle of a crowd and yell, 'Voldemort!' at the top of your lungs?"

            "You'd be thrown in an insane asylum," Zach informed Jim.

            "Really?" Jim asked. "For something little like that? You should have been thrown in one long ago."

            "Johnson, James," the stern witch called.

            Jim stumbled towards the Sorting Hat and shoved it over his ears.  After about a minute, the Sorting Hat roared, "GRYFFINDOR!" Darn. He wasn't in Ravenclaw. And I had a feeling that Rachel would be in Hufflepuff.

            "Jones, Emerald."

            I stumbled forward and shoved the hat down over my ears, not wanting to see the entire Hall staring at me. _Ravenclaw.  I want to be in Ravenclaw._

            "RAVENCLAW!"

            Relieved once more, I went to the Ravenclaw table, and listened for Rachel to be called.

            "Smith, Rachel."

            "HUFFLEPUFF!"

            Some time later, Zach was called.

            "Taylor, Zachary."

            "SLYTHERIN!"

            Zach smirked at me as he joined the Slytherins. I made a face at him which involved sticking out my tongue and wiggling my fingers in my ears.

            Food appeared on the tables, and we began to eat.

            "Congratulations on getting into Ravenclaw," the sandy-haired boy sitting next to me said. "My name's Toby Stormwind, and you're Emerald Jones, right?"

            "Yes," I replied, "but I prefer to be called Mera."

            "Sure, Mera. You can call me Toby."

            Toby seemed pretty nice, but there was a gleam to his eyes that I knew meant trouble. "So, Toby, are you planning to compete in the Triwizard Tournament?" I asked as we got up to leave the Great Hall and head for the Ravenclaw tower. Dumbledore had announced that just a minute ago, after everyone was finished eating.

            "Sure," Toby grinned. "I'm too young, but that's never been a problem. I could get an older cousin to enter my name for me."

            There was a traffic jam near the double-doors, and I left Toby so I could find out what was happening. There I found Jim and Zach, glaring at each other while being held apart by several other students. I could tell Zach's heart wasn't really in the glare; when he _really_ glares, I swear that Voldemort would back up in fear.

            "What's going on here?" I demanded.

            "He's in Slytherin!" Jim spat, as if that were reason enough to get into a fight. For Jim, maybe it was.

            The people holding Zach had loosened their grip, since it seemed Zach wasn't going to go for Jim's throat.

            "Naughty boy. Slytherin is bad." I gave Zach a light tap on the head with my now sopping wet Spanish Dictionary.

            "Got to go. See you tomorrow." Zach followed the other Slytherins out of the Great Hall.

            Jim glared furiously after him.  "What's gotten into him?  I thought he was nice!"

            "He's nice," I said. "He's just ambitious."

            Jim stormed off.

Could you please review? Pretty please with sugar and cherries on top?


	5. Boys

Disclaimer: Do I really have to write this? I don't own it, okay? I don't think I have enough money to buy the rights to the books....

            Our first class was Potions, with the Hufflepuffs.  Professor Snape was a nightmare.  He was especially mean to Rachel, whose parents are Muggles. What is it that purebloods have against Muggles, or Muggle-borns? It's not like they could help it that they were born to Muggle parents.

            "It's not fair!" Rachel burst out.  "And don't you say that life's not fair, I've heard that from my parents _ad nauseum_."

            "Same here.  I'm just crazy, so I came up with my own theory: life is _always_ fair, people are just too stupid to realize it."

            She asked me to explain, so I did. "Say you grow up having to work hard. Well, you might think that unfair, but later in life you'll already know how to work hard, so you'll have an advantage. Again, say you're faced with a life-or-death decision. Well, next time you'll already have experience."

            "But what if you die?" Rachel asked. "How is that fair?"

            I shrugged. "Hey, I only said life was fair. I never said anything about death."

            "What if your friend dies?" she asked.

            "You learn to deal with the loss, and grow from it," I replied. "It might not be pleasant, but it certainly is fair."

            The next day, we had Herbology, with the Slytherins.  We spent the period weeding, which was a rather grueling task. I began to acquire several aches and pains in my arms and back. After a while, I stood up to stretch.

            Everything went black.

            I was fighting in a battle.  My head and arms ached.  Someone was screaming—

            I sat up with a start.  I was the one screaming.  Zach was kneeling next to me, ashen-faced.  Once I had subsided to quiet sobs, he asked, "You OK?"

            "I—I think so. Ow! My head hurts. Look at my arms—they're all scratched up." And they were. I was bleeding a bit from several long scratches, though most of them were simply an angry red, and itched.

            "The plants must have scratched you when you fell. Can you stand?" Zach helped me onto my feet. "I'll take you to the Hospital Wing."

            "Tsk, tsk," admonished Madame Pompfrey.  "You stood up too fast. You need some recovery time, yes? Perhaps you should take tomorrow off."

            Tomorrow was the first Flying Lesson.  I'd been looking forward to it for a week. "No! I'm okay, honestly. I'm just in a bit of shock. This has never happened before."

            Madam Pompfrey looked doubtful, but she said, "Well, alright.  Off you go then."

            As we left, Zach whispered, "Malfoy's up to something.  I need you to come to the Slytherin common room tonight to help me check it out.  The password is _indicium atrocis_."

            That afternoon was Astrology, with the Gryffindors.  It was a nightmare.  Not only was Jim still angry with Zach, some of his ire had spilled onto me.  There was no explanation for it, except the fact that all boys seem to have a streak of irrationality about a mile wide. We yelled across the tower at each other, while everyone else stared at us. I was having fun, although distinctly annoyed that my friend was being so dense. He was furious. The teacher was not amused.

            "He's my friend!  I've known him since I was little!"

            "He's in Slytherin!"

            "What's wrong with that? He's ambitious! He wants to be great!"

            "So do I, but I didn't need to be put in Slytherin to achieve my goals!"

            On a hunch, I retorted, "You could be great, you know. And Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness. No?  Well, then, better be GRYFFINDOR!"

            "How—?"

            "But Zach isn't the type for Gryffindor.  He could have been put in Ravenclaw, but he's got a weird sense of humor.  He probably thought it would be funny if the four of us were in four different houses."

            "He's insane! Why are you siding with him?"

            "I at least have some common sense!"

            "And I don't?!"

            "_Boys!_"__

Yet another piece of the original chapter one. This one has only been slightly revised, so any suggestions for further revisions will be welcome, once I have regained my common sense.

Although I have now decided that boys are no less stupid than girls, my opinion of them has not changed. Rather, now I have taken to heart Wizards' First Rule: People are stupid. Not everyone, of course, just most people. But if you're reading this story, you're probably not stupid—simply because you must like to read.


	6. Triwizard Tournament

DISCLAIMERS: I own Mera. I own Zach. I made up his name, and it's just a coincidence that it happens to be the same as the name of a famous American general. I also own Rachel and Jim. I do not own Harry Potter, it's owned by J. K. Rowling.

            That night, I snuck into the Slytherin common room, as Zach had requested. I was wearing Zach's invisibility cloak, which he had loaned me for this purpose.  Malfoy was all smug, talking about how he was going to be the school champion, and how he was going to win the Triwizard Tournament. "It shouldn't be too hard," he said. "People have died before, and dead people can't compete." I had to keep from laughing.  Air doesn't laugh.  It was just that Malfoy thought he'd be the school champion.  As if! If any Slytherin became Hogwarts champion, it would be Zach. Malfoy was stupid, only passing each year because Snape always gave him a perfect score on his Potions exam. Zach, on the other hand, was a genius, knew a whole bunch of curses (and the counter-curses, which were, to him, more important than the former), and was overall a much better candidate than Malfoy.

            Actually, there were a few other Slytherins who would qualify. Darcy Leroy might, simply from sheer knowledge of magic. That guy could take on Voldemort himself and at least give a fair showing if he fell short of winning; I had a nagging suspicion that he planned to do just that, someday. Some others as well, whom I didn't know as well, including one seventh-year girl. But I was willing to bet that a Ravenclaw would become school champion. After all, we were the brightest students at Hogwarts, were we not? If not a Ravenclaw, then, well, surely a Slytherin. Although most Slytherins were like Malfoy, the few who weren't were much better than anyone in Gryffindor, much less Hufflepuff. So my earlier thought had been uncalled-for—partially, but not entirely, since the average Slytherin was less qualified than the average Hufflepuff, even. But I say average. Slytherin House just seemed to attract the extremes of stupidity and intelligence—or should I say cleverness, because that was really the Slytherins' strength.

            On October 30, the delegates from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang arrived.  There was great excitement among everyone at Hogwarts, and I even managed to get Viktor Krum's autograph—Viktor Krum, the best Seeker in the world! I'd always known that carrying a pen and parchment with me at all times would be useful someday. Oh, alright, I carry them so that I can write down any ideas that pop into my head at odd moments, but still, I got his autograph!

Dumbledore brought out the Goblet of Fire and drew an Age Line around it. He intended to keep out all students less than seventeen years of age. Little did he know that this year Hogwarts was home to four extremely bright, extremely mischievous first-years, who, despite our difference in Houses, were very good friends—now that Jim and Zach had declared a truce (of sorts). If anyone else bothered one of them, the other would stand up for the first—but otherwise, they still had trouble keeping from yelling at each other. It was all Rachel could do to keep the peace. I didn't even bother to try, unless they got too out-of-hand, in which case I would yell at them and express my severe disappointment. That seemed to work in Zach's case, if not in Jim's.

            "An Age Line! It is so absurdly easy to get past one of those," I informed Zach. And it was. One could get an older student to put one's name in the Goblet for oneself (one of the Stormwinds would certainly oblige), although that might not work too well since the Goblet might think the name belonged to the older student. Although, the Stormwinds were certainly good enough at magic to be declared school champion. However, one could also wad up the piece of parchment and throw it into the Goblet from behind the Age Line. By using _wingardium__ leviosa_, one could ensure that one's name landed in the Goblet.

            "Momentum…." Zach suggested.

            "I hadn't thought of that one," I admitted.  "But yeah, I suppose that would work.  Good aim would be better, though. Or a good charm."

            "See you tonight, then?" He grinned that adorable mischievous grin of his, and my heart did a little flip-flop. I didn't recognize the cause.

            "Naw, I've got a perfect record so far, and that would go out the window if I became the Hogwarts champion."

            "Come on," he cajoled, "I'm sure they'll forgive you. Anyway, you probably won't become champion. We can just be proud of our accomplishment, outsmarting Dumbledore."

            "Oh, fine," I gave in. I never could resist the lure of outsmarting someone, and to outsmart the Headmaster himself…!

            That night, when everyone else was asleep, we snuck down to the Great Hall to put our names in the Goblet. It went precisely as planned, and I was almost disappointed. It had been too easy. Where was the fun in that?

            When the day came to announce the champions, I waited with bated breath, torn between hoping I was one and hoping I wasn't. I guess it's lucky that I wasn't. Actually, considering my luck, I _know_ it's lucky I wasn't. I'm always lucky—or have I told you that already? It comes from being born on Friday the 13th. Most people consider it bad luck, but considering my success in life, I tell you it's _good_ luck. Or maybe it's just crazy luck. I would certainly consider crazy luck to be good luck, because, as I've said, I'm crazy myself. Come to think of it, that's _very_ likely, since normal people would consider crazy luck to be bad luck.

            The fact that Diggory was Hogwarts champion surprised me. I mean, really, a Hufflepuff? Well, then again, Murphy's Law still works on me, though my luck tends to turn the bad things into good things. What really surprised me was the _fourth_ champion: Harry Potter. He wasn't smart enough to get past the Age Line. I mean, sure he's pretty bright, and sure he's a great wizard—he has to be; otherwise how did he manage to defeat ol' Voldemort so many times? But he's still not all that clever. Not clever enough to want to be in Slytherin. So who had put his name in the Goblet?

            "He didn't ask anyone, that's for sure," Jim informed us. "Did you see his face? He was shocked!"

            "Maybe Snape," Zach suggested.

            Jim looked at him like he was crazy—which he was, of course. "You're accusing your own Head of House? I thought you were Snape's pet!"

            "He hates Potter," Zach stated. Well, of course he hated Potter. Potter had foiled Slytherin's chances at getting the House Cup for the past three years.

            "But… he just doesn't seem like the type to try to kill someone just because he doesn't like them," Rachel argued. And she was right: whoever had put Potter's name in the Goblet was trying to get him killed. The Triwizard Tournament was dangerous, and although Zach or I might have survived—I because of my luck, and Zach because of his great store of knowledge—there was a good chance that Potter would die.

            Zach lowered his voice. "Snape was a spy for Dumbledore. He was right in Voldemort's inner circle. He knew that Pettigrew was the one spying on the Potters. Maybe he was planning to tell Dumbledore. Maybe not. In any case, when the Potters were killed, Sirius Black was the natural suspect. The Potters had used the Fidelius Charm, and everyone assumed that Black had been their Secret-Keeper. Then Black killed Pettigrew—or so Snape thought—so Snape had no reason to tell Dumbledore that Black was innocent. Snape hated Black, and he hates Potter just as much." How would Zach know this? But I forgot, he was a pureblood. His parents knew a lot of things they shouldn't, and he probably had hiding places, as did I in my house, where he could listen to them talking about confidential information. Still, it was disturbing that _anyone,_ other than Dumbledore and—what was it called?—oh, yes, the Order of the Pheonix (Mom had been in it; that's how I knew about it), would know that Snape had been a spy for them.

            Jim broke the silence. "Maybe it was Karkaroff who put Potter's name in the Goblet." Smart boy—wait, that was an oxymoron. I stifled a giggle. Still, he had the right idea. Best that we kept in mind that we might just be wrong—although that, of course, would be blasphemy, because the first rule in the one true religion is that I am always right.

I'm just kidding, alright? I know I'm not perfect. I'm only human, after all.

"Maybe it was Moody," Rachel said.

            "It wouldn't have been Moody," Jim snorted. "Moody's an Auror."

            "I don't know," I put in. "Moody gives me the creeps. I wouldn't trust him." I'd come to trust my instincts over the years, because my instincts were usually right. Then again, they usually advised caution, but that's usually the best course of action, which means that my instincts were correct. Still, as I said before, I've often suspected that I have certain psychic powers, including ESP and a weak form of clairvoyance. And whenever I looked at Moody, I had the oddest sensation that he wasn't at all what he seemed....

Yes, they're still too smart; no, I'm not going to change that. They're _supposed_ to be extremely smart, because otherwise the story wouldn't work out. But people that smart really do exist. The thing is, these kids don't see things the same way normal people do. And, well, a lot of it can be credited to Mera's luck (which does exist), and Mera's psychic powers (which might or might not exist).


	7. MadEye Moody

DISCLAIMERS: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not want to own HP. LotR is a different matter, but I'm getting sidetracked. I own Mera. I definitely own Mera, even if I get that story finished and published under a name other than Lightning, I, Lightning, still own Mera.

Please review, I don't bite, though I might hiss a bit if I get flamed. I happen to have some magical power that makes me immune to fire.

Everyone knows about Potter's brilliant flying in the First Task, of course. And also about his brave rescue of _two_ hostages during the Second Task. What most people don't know is that all the while, Potter was visiting Sirius Black.

            That's right. Potter was visiting the man who, as everyone knew, wanted to kill him.

            It was only pure dumb luck that we found out—or perhaps smart luck, since I don't like to think of anything about me as dumb, even my luck. The four of us had invented this new charm; we called it the Invisibility Charm. As the name would suggest, it turned things invisible. Of all people, Rachel had come up with the idea—Rachel, who was usually the one to advise us not to do something against the rules. But mischief is contagious, as I myself had discovered from years of associating with Zach. So come up with the idea she did, and she was the one who suggested that we practice them on each other that weekend. Absolutely insane—apparently insanity is also contagious. It was dangerous, very dangerous, you see; a new spell, untried, invented by first years—there was a good chance that we'd end up getting ourselves killed. But we didn't, thankfully. We were clever enough to invent a spell that worked like we wanted (though we didn't have the common sense to try it on something inanimate first, just in case. I have discovered that common sense and IQ tend to be inversely proportional. Except that people with extremely low IQ's also have little common sense. Maybe an absolute value function? I'll have to do a study on that).

            "This is awesome," I said. "We have the whole school open to us now. Nobody can see us; we can't get caught." Well, not quite nobody—but you'll find out about that soon enough.

"It's a Hogsmeade weekend. We could go to the village," Zach suggested.

"Yeah, cool. Let's do that!" Jim agreed. The two boys had been getting along much better since Halloween. They still argued occasionally, but then again, Zach and I still argued all the time. At least they didn't fight, except when the teachers were watching.

Sounds weird, doesn't it? But we didn't want the teachers to know that we were friends. Zach and I insulted each other at every opportunity, and the two boys managed to get into a fight in the hallway at least once a week. Speaking of fights, I was beginning to formulate a plan involving a fight between myself and Zach. I'd gotten the idea from _Magic's Pawn_, by Mercedes Lackey. Great book.

Easier said than done—getting into Hogsmeade, that is—but still easily done. Jim was the main problem; he didn't know how to walk quietly. Zach had gotten plenty of practice while he was growing up from all the times he used to sneak up on me (harder than you'd expect, since I tend to be quite alert, even when I'm reading, unless I'm really into the book); I used to practice walking quietly just for fun; and Rachel was a natural; but Jim had never had any practice, and he was pretty clumsy besides. There was one moment, when we were creeping out of Hogwarts, that Filch looked right at us, obviously wondering what had caused that noise. But he couldn't see us, so after a bit he must've decided it was just the wind or something. With a sigh of relief, I crept on past him, into Hogsmeade.

That was when I realized that I had no idea where the others were. I nearly panicked. Then Zach's hand touched mine, and I grasped the hand, feeling my panic drain out of me. "We need to hold hands," I whispered into the place where his ear should have been, "so we don't lose each other."

"Already done," he whispered back. "I'm ahead of you, girl." _Curse him!_ I thought, a bit put out by his smug tone.

Near the end of the road in Hogsmeade, I spotted Potter and his friends. We crept closer. A large black dog walked up to them.

"Hello, Sirius," said Potter. _Sirius?__ Sirius Black?_ I tugged on Zach's hand, indicating we should leave. We crept back up the road, keeping to the sides of the buildings so we wouldn't run into anyone.

In a weak voice, Rachel asked, "Was that Sirius Black?"

I kept my voice casual, trying not to laugh. "That big black dog? Yep, that was him."

"What am I missing here?" Rachel wondered. "Why was _Potter_ with Sirius Black?"

"Oh, right. Er, well, you see, we kinda forgot to tell you, but, er, Black is actually innocent," I explained. I was about to go on, but we were approaching the school and Moody was standing near the entrance.

Moody turned toward us. We shrank back into the shadows, even though we were already invisible. "Jones. Johnson. Smith. Taylor. Come to my office."

Oh no! Moody could see through our Invisibility Charms! This was not good at all. Not only had Moody caught us sneaking around school grounds, he had caught us sneaking around school grounds _together_.

The climb up the stairs to Moody's office seemed interminable, a long march to our doom. My doom, at least; this would ruin my perfect record. And our secret would be out—admitted, only the less important one would be revealed, but that could lead to someone discovering the other one.

In Moody's office, my attention was drawn to the map lying on the desk. It showed the entire school, with the secret passageways and everything—even the people. There was my dot, and my friends' dots, and Moody's—

Wait a minute. Moody's dot was labeled "Bartemius Crouch." _Interesting. . ._

Moody's voice brought me out of my musings. "What were you four doing, sneaking around the grounds like that?"

            We exchanged several glances. Then, to our surprise, Zach lifted his chin in an excellent imitation of a haughty expression. "Johnson was insulting me, and I had to stand up for myself, so I challenged him to a duel."

            Well, that took care of the boys. So what about us girls? But Rachel had the answer to that. "So that's what you two were up to! We saw them sneaking off, Professor, and we couldn't just let them go. They're such troublemakers. And there weren't any teachers around."

            I nodded. "We'd convinced them to come back, but there you were. You're really frightening, you know, Professor."

Moody peered at us suspiciously. "Alright then. Run along," he said after a moment.

"Moody is actually Bartemius Crouch." I told them about the map. They listened closely, with astonished expressions.

"Mr. Crouch? Impossible!" Jim said.

"There's not another Bartemius Crouch, is there?" Rachel asked.

            Zach thought it through. "Crouch's son—but he's dead, he was caught with a group of Death Eaters and thrown in Azkaban. He died a year later."

"Sirius Black is innocent." That was Rachel.

"Yeah. I just told you that, remember?" I was thinking that Rachel might be just a tad bit slow. Or maybe the fact that the mass murderer Sirius Black was innocent was a bit too much for anyone to handle all at once, and she was just taking a bit to process the information. After all, we hadn't really picked a very convenient time to impart it to her.

            "It's just, if Black is innocent, Pettigrew must be alive. So there are ways to fake your death."

"Are you saying that Crouch's son is _alive_?" Jim demanded.

"It's possible. That doesn't necessarily mean that it's _probable_, but it's definitely possible."

"So Crouch was a Death Eater, and Moody is Crouch—"

I interrupted, "What if _Moody _put Potter's name in the goblet?"

Yeah, I know. It's not too realistic. It would mess up the whole story line. Except that it won't. Read the next chapter to find out. Once I get it posted.

Please review. If you don't review, Mera will send the vampires after you. Oh, wait, that's not even in this story. It's in one of the later ones. But it's still Mera. Anyhoo, please review. Pretty please with sugar and cherries on top.


	8. Hope

Alright. This chapter is going to be extremely short. I want y'all to review it anyways. Wait, maybe it won't be so short. I just discovered that if I continued with this pattern that the next chapter would only be a couple sentences long, and that wouldn't be good. I suppose I'll just make the two chapters into one chapter.  
  
* * *  
  
"We have to tell Dumbledore," Zach said. But Dumbledore was nowhere to be found. We tried telling McGonagall, but she wouldn't believe us.  
  
"It's hopeless," Jim despaired.  
  
"Never give up hope," Rachel advised.  
  
"I didn't give it up. It left on its own!"  
  
"Out of despair comes greater hope," said Rachel. "Without despair there would be no hope."  
  
"Why won't she believe us?"  
  
* * *  
  
"Did you see the Quidditch field? It's been totally destroyed!" Jim raged.  
  
Zach's response was, "Destruction can be beautiful."  
  
"Uh-huh." Jim wasn't in the mood.  
  
* * *  
  
So it's short. So what? Just please review, because I REALLY want to know how I'm doing. Flame me if you want, I know it's a decent story, if you don't like it that's your problem but I might actually change it so that you do like it. But I can't do that if you don't review. 


	9. Song

DISCLAIMERS: I do not own HP, nor do I own any of the characters belonging to J.K. Rowling, etc. Any similarities to any real people or places is purely coincidental, except the similarities between Mera and myself. Even Zach's name is a coincidence, I just thought Zachary Taylor sounded like a nice name, I had totally forgotten that there was a President by that name.

Oh, and you can't sue me because I'm not making any money off this, and you don't really know who I am anyways. MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

* * *

Over Easter vacation, there was a songwriting contest for the First Years. Dumbledore loved music, said it was more magic than anything taught at Hogwarts. Maybe he was right.

The Chaos Club got together to compose a song. We decided we wanted our song to be controversial. Here is what we came up with:

I see beauty in destruction.

I know hope comes from despair.

Error is the best instruction.

I know life is ALWAYS fair!

'Cause I'm from Chaos,

And that's where I'm taught;

'Cause I'm from Chaos,

I'll never be caught,

I'll always have hope in my heart!

I know war is necessary.

Peace leads only to more death.

I know I can never tarry.

Time's as precious as my breath,

'Cause I'm from Chaos,

And that's where I'm taught;

'Cause I'm from Chaos, I'll never be caught,

I'll always be ready to learn!

Rumor always has truth in it,

For it's often based on truth.

I'll always have to wait "just a minute";

I learned all this in my youth,

'Cause I'm from Chaos,

And that's where I'm taught;

'Cause I'm from Chaos,

I'll never be caught,

Even when from my homeland I part!

I want to hear golden silence.

Stronger than hate is pure love.

Protest only with non-violence.

I choose all of the above!

'Cause I'm from Chaos,

And that's where I'm taught;

'Cause I'm from Chaos,

I'll never be caught,

I'll always have somewhere to turn!

Our song won the contest. The prize was supposed to be twenty points awarded to the winner's House, so each House got five points and we all got a good laugh.

Dumbledore was there, of course, but in the excitement of the contest we had completely forgotten our suspicions about Moody.


	10. Resolution

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter. Nor do I own anything owned by someone other than myself. DUH!

* * *

            We did not remember our suspicions again until the beginning of the Third Task, and by then it was too late.

            The Triwizard Cup had been transformed into a Portkey by Moody. Potter and the other Hogwarts champion, Cedric Diggory, took it at the same time, and both vanished. They were transported to where Pettigrew was waiting to revive Voldemort, or so Potter told us after it was all over, and I have no reason to believe he was lying. Pettigrew killed Diggory, tied Potter to a grave marker, and proceeded to make a potion to restore his master to power.

            After being restored to his body, the Dark Lord summoned the Death Eaters who had been in his inner circle. Potter said Voldemort named a few. My friends and I were there when he told everyone the names he had heard Voldemort say, all of whom had been on trial and had been acquitted. He also repeated some of the Dark Lord's exact words, about some of the missing Death Eaters. "One, too cowardly to return...and another, who I believe has left our ranks forever. They will be dealt with." (Author's note: If I got it a bit wrong, oh well. I'm going from memory, as would Mera be if she were actually writing this story. So what if her memory is a bit off?) Left the ranks of the Death Eaters forever. That must be Snape.

            Through a great stroke of luck, Potter managed to get away. He ran to the Cup, which brought him back to Hogwarts.

            As for us, well, we exchanged addresses and promised to contact each other.

            A week later, Zach came over to my house. "You wouldn't believe what I've found!"

            I followed him to his back yard, which was full of trees. He fell to his knees and began feeling around him.

            "Ah! Here it is!" He pulled up a well-disguised trapdoor and we climbed into a stone passageway.

            We wandered around for quite a while. It was too quiet. No sounds intruded from outside. To make up for the oppressive silence, I began to sing. I sang our song, the one we had written for the contest.

            When I finished singing, I noticed that the air ahead of me had turned black, and lightning-like flashes tore through it. I walked into the churning air. Zach followed on my heels.

            Suddenly we were in another tunnel. The differences were subtle, barely noticeable, but there they were. The air was drier, and more stale. Whereas the tunnel in Zach's yard might not have been opened for decades, this one felt as though it had not been accessed for centuries. I looked up and saw words carved into the stone wall. "WELCOME TO THE CHAOS TUNNEL."

            Hardly able to believe our luck, we returned to our homes, impatient to tell our friends, Rachel and Jim. Just imagine, of all things we might have found, we had found the legendary Chaos Tunnel, which dated to a time before Hogwarts was founded. The Chaos Tunnel, which could take you anywhere. I grinned at Zach, and he returned the grin, cocking an eyebrow as if to say, "Watch out, because the Chaos Club now has access to the Chaos Tunnel, and nobody will be safe from our pranks."

            It would be one interesting summer. The following year at Hogwarts would be quite enjoyable. Quite enjoyable indeed...

* * *

This is the end of the story. I am already working on the next one, The Chaos Tunnel. It will probably follow the story line of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, because I probably won't have it finished before the book is released, so I might as well have the story line the same. There will be some added things, of course. The one after that, Queen of Chaos, will likely come out before the 6th Harry Potter book. Therefore it will be entirely original, except for the characters and setting, of course.

Please review. I would appreciate any and all reviews very much, even flames. However, I hope not to get any flames for this chapter. If you do not like the story, I should hope that you are smart enough that you won't continue to read it. I also expect people to know whether or not they like the story by the end of the first chapter. Second chapter at the latest. Anyhoo. Please review. If you would like me to read your works, please say so in your review.


End file.
